My Wings
by AppleBagel
Summary: I've always wanted to fly. It was a dream I had no belief would ever come true. But him. . . He became my wings. (2p!PruCan, one-shot, written by Apple)


Flying was something I had always dreamed of doing. When I was young, it was simply a child's wish – a silly unrealistic thought.

However, no matter how much I aged – and as a nation, I aged for quite a long time – the dream never truly went away. Over the years, and through certain events, the dream became all the more important.

Horrible things had happened. No matter how much time went between then and now, I don't want to remember it. I even avoid alcohol because it brought back painful memories. The loss of the knights who raised me, being pitted against my own brother and destroying everything we had, being held prisoner in Russia's dark cage, dying. . . It hurt.

If I ever thought about it, which I tended to avoid at all costs, I would say it was the time spent with Russia that truly made me wish to fly. Wish that I could sprout feathered wings and escape. Escape from my hell that trapped me so.

Being kept underground and tortured for so long, like a caged bird with broken wings, it gave me an overwhelming desire to be high up - A desire to be free and far away from being buried in the dirt.

I spent many a day lost in a fake world of freedom and peace. Where I could fly, and all was right in the world. Where pain was as simple as a scrapped knee. It was a comfort that only existed when I closed my eyes.

But when every moment hurts, every movement causes pain, and every sound makes you jump in fear. . . Even imaginary wings become bloodied.

In a situation like that, it's easy to lose hope. It's easy to let it be torn away and ripped apart. Although I hate to admit it, that's what I did. I let all hope leave.

I could feel a new war coming soon. Another battle that would result in death and blood, just like all the ones before it. My heart sunk at the very thought. I didn't have any belief I could survive another war. I gave up.

I allowed myself to fade away. I found my only comfort in the hands of death, giving up any other chance of escaping the prison. I thought, maybe when I was an angel I could finally fly.

Even if I could, I have no way of knowing what it was like. I have no memories of what it was like to be dead.

The strength of my people, the Prussians, was what brought me back. When the other versions of ourselves, the 1ps, as we are told to call them, came to our world, it brought a new ray of hope to them. So much so that I was returned, fully intact.

However, I'd lost everything I had before. My brother, Germany, was fine with North Italy, but with the mind control the Italian, Luciano, held over him, he doesn't remember me or anything that happened between us. He's safe though, so I suppose it is for the best.

I had no home anymore. I could not live with my brother, my previous home was gone, and I was left as a wanderer. Travelling from place to place, never truly welcome anywhere. . . I suppose it did have a bright side, as I was curious about the world and wished to see how it changed in my absence. But at the same time, it would have been nice to have some where to go home to.

My old friendships were vanquished. France and Spain, or Frankie and Andres, if I recall their names correctly, had moved on quite quickly after I was taken away. Even the girl I had previously loved, Hungry, had moved on and found someone new. I wasn't angry about it, to be honest. I can remember feeling such emotion towards Ildi, but now I don't really feel it at all. It's sad, really.

But the reason for all this reminiscing came back to one very important point – I, Akbar Belischdmit, dreamed of flight.

In every way, flying seemed an escape. Something beautiful and happy. Flight was a way to become free from the hurting past. Every time I saw a bird, I yearned to swoop along next to it, my own set of wings beating behind me. I gravitated towards high up places – The tree tops, roofs, attics, anywhere high up. It was the only way I could get close to flying.

After so much, it was hard to be happy. Flying seemed like something that could make me happy. I had not laughed, or even smiled, since being reborn. I supposed after a while, it couldn't happen anymore. That I had been stripped of that, too.

But. . . I did find something that, for the first time in ages, made me smile and laugh. Except it wasn't a some_thing_, but a some_one_.

Matthew James Williams.

I don't know if he knew how important that was. The personification of Canada, he had shown me kindness when no one else was willing to. I'm not sure what it was, but something about him brought me a sense of happiness again. It was shocking even to me to laugh and smile like nothing bad had ever happened.

That was when I knew this man was going to be important.

From the moment I met him, I knew I was going to be by his side forever. As far as I was concerned, it was only a matter of time before we were together. I had decided to wait till Matt was comfortable with it, though.

Eventually, it did happen. We kissed and made love, but above all, he made me smile. He made me laugh and feel joyful, like I was free of all troubles. Even when he swore and yelled, I still knew he was the only one who could manage that.

I wonder if I'll ever be able to repay Matt for what he's done for me. I don't think I've ever managed to or if I ever will.

I've realized that in a way, he's my wings. Even if I myself can't fly, he makes my heart soar.

**A/N: I'm a sap. A sappy, cheesy, gushy, romantic. Also, I felt the need to go into the darker part of Akbar's past so that anyone who wants to write for him can really understand why he is like he is. In all honesty the main goal of this was to smack all of you in the face with feels. 'Cause that's just how I roll! =D **

**. . . I'm so sorry. **


End file.
